


Unorthodox Solutions

by EmeraldSage



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, And a recipe for disaster, Dragons, Knights - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Medieval Fantasy, RomCom-ish, Royals, RusAme Secret Santa 2018, Tell me what you think plz, this fic is a monster, with an interesting ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 02:45:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17133584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldSage/pseuds/EmeraldSage
Summary: Alfred F. Jones is a knight-in-training off on an (unsanctioned) quest to retrieve the Viridian Heart circlet for Princess Michele’s wedding day.  But on the quest, he encounters many things that put him at risk of losing more than he ever thought he could.After all, how could one ever lose something they’d already thought to be lost?  Or even something they’d never considered theirs to lose.(Shitty summary aside, it's a happy story with minimal angst)





	Unorthodox Solutions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wandschrankheld](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=wandschrankheld).



> Right. Okay. This fic just would not STOP.
> 
> So, this is a part of the RusAme Secret Santa for @wandschrankheld! I hope you enjoy it, hun! This is in response to your second prompt about Medieval Fantasy:  
> Alfred, a knight in training, is sent to a remote village to deal with a threat (monster, bandit, corrupt nobility - your pick). He ends up having to team up with the local blacksmith's son, Ivan.
> 
> It's not quite word for word, but I hope you like it!
> 
> And damn, I had such a blast writing the dragon. He's hands down my favorite character, haha.

**This is how** the story begins.

The princess of Britanniae is getting married.  Her childhood dream was to get married while wearing the Viridian Heart circlet, a priceless artifact and even more invaluable part of the kingdom’s history. It had been kept safe in the palace catacombs, where the treasure vault resided, for generations of Kings and Queens since the original Queen Mother had worn the gleaming treasure on her conquest of the kingdom.

Until, that is, it was stolen in the middle of the night by a palace traitor during an attempted coup d’etat two centuries ago.

However, in recent decades, word had reached the kingdom that the circlet had been located in a nearby village on the border between their kingdom and the northern one.  They had consulted many an oracle and diviner, but all had insisted that it would be impossible to retrieve the circlet without great loss to the kingdom.  So, for decades, the circlet remained in its location, as the monarchs who ruled were wise and fair and beloved - and would not sacrifice their people for a failed attempt at retrieving what was, essentially, a fancy piece of jewelry.

But now, the King’s youngest adopted, and much beloved, child - Princess Michelle - was getting married, and it was her dream to wear the tiara on her wedding day. And so, the King and his Consort dug up their courage, and put forth a proposition for all the knights and warriors of their realm.

It was a quest to be undertaken willingly, they warned, and they would have no tolerance for those who forced others to take the challenge on.  They released the location of the circlet to only those who stepped forwards to try their hand at retrieving the priceless heirloom, hoping desperately to prevent what the diviners had foretold as mass loss in the effort of its retrieval.

It didn’t _quite_ work.

Knight after knight and warrior after warrior sought the Crown’s blessing to retrieve the circlet.  And knight after knight and warrior after warrior failed to achieve their goal. Some returned to the Capitol, to the castle, and to that courtyard where their quest was issued.  They told a tale of a grand challenge awaiting anyone who dared to attempt the quest - of a monstrous beast that waited for them to fail, and a treacherous fate to those who could not escape in time.

Others did not return at all.

 **This is how** _their story_ begins.

Alfred F. Jones was a knight-in-training.  He was very proud of that fact.

He wasn’t, however, a full knight.  And as he was only 17 years old, having only been able to begin his training recently, he wouldn’t be a full knight for another two years.

Well, that was if he hadn’t snuck away from the Capitol in order to pursue the Quest that had been offered to all who were daring enough to take it: retrieve the Viridian Heart for Princess Michelle’s wedding.

The Princess was getting married in a year and a half, giving him around a year to achieve his goal.  The winter solstice had just passed when he’d snuck out of the training barracks, and traveling was particularly treacherous at this time of year. The only reason he was setting off now was because it would take some time before anyone realized he was gone, much less where he was off to.  The royal family kept the location of the Queen Mother’s circlet close to their chest, and only the few knights who took up the quest would be brought into the know.  Those who knew were sworn to an unbreakable secrecy.  It made undertaking the quest without the royal family’s blessing utterly impossible.

Fortunately, Alfred had found a loophole that had given him the information many across the kingdom would’ve loved to know: the location of the Viridian Heart. It lay on the outskirts of a small border town up north, on the verge of trespassing into the realm where ice and snow and wind claimed their domain.  The snows in the northern part of the kingdom were particularly vicious, and few dared the trek during the summer months, much less the winter time. It had taken Alfred a little less than a month to reach the border village with the snows in their full fury, and _he_ had been particularly gifted in the wind magics that had made his journey marginally more bearable.  He couldn’t imagine how anyone could make the journey else wise.

He’d arrived in the midst of a furious storm, aching and tired and somewhat desperate for rest.  He caught sight of gleaming wood in the midwinter sun during a brief respite amidst the storm, and known - as the wind tumbled around him, whispering in joyful relief - that this was his destination.

However, though he may have grown up in the city, he was very familiar with the village mindset.  And a stranger emerging from the middle of a blizzard seeking shelter would be treated with caution at best and frantic harassment/outright repugnance at worst.

So, he’d let the wind direct him towards a cave, not far from his destination, and wrapped himself and the cavern in the marginal warmth of the wind.  He’d carefully crafted a runic circle to start a smokeless fire.  On a normal quest, he wouldn’t have dared risk such a thing - the fire’s presence drew beings of all sorts, and was noticeable on top of it all - but if he forsook the fire, he’d be nothing but a frost-encrusted body come dawn’s light.

The fire’s warmth had sunk into his bones, even as it waned and sputtered as the night went on.  The wind had kept watch as Alfred sunk into an exhausted sleep, waking him only as the touch of dawn had come and gone, and it was time to rise.

He’d left his belongings, armor included, in the cave, weaving familiar spellwork around them to keep them from notice.  He ventured out with his own hand-woven fur-lined jacket atop his sturdy winter wear, and a thick set of woolen underclothing, intent only on scouting the terrain. 

Which led him to his current situation, dodging the vicious talons and the fire being volleyed at him by the _dragon_ who was guarding the tower he’d accidentally stumbled upon.

On the positive note, he’d found the location of the Viridian Heart.  On the negative...he was being attacked by a _goddamn dragon_.

He sqwaked as he pinwheeled backwards, falling ass over tea-kettle into another bank of snow, before he leapt up, as graceful as a frantic doe, and dove over another bank just in time to avoid getting roasted.  He chanced a glance back at where he’d fallen beforehand and gulped.  The only thing left was a steaming puddle that was quickly condensing in the cold and some scorched grass.

He squeaked as the talons came for him this time, jumping into the nearest evergreen tree and climbing it like a monkey, when it occurred to him that trees were very, _very_ flammable.

His shriek, as he leapt from the tree just in time to avoid a quick and painful barbequing, nearly broke his eardrums.  And as he made another dash for the path, he got the distinct impression that the dragon was laughing at him.   

* * *

His chest heaved as he curled up tightly within the cavern, exhausted and aching everywhere but finally, _finally_ safe.

The dragon, it seemed, couldn’t break his wards on the little cave he’d sought refuge in, so it’d huffed and taken wing back to its tower.  Leaving Alfred all on his lonesome to recover from the dragon’s nearly impeccable aim and pyromaniac tendencies.

And it wasn’t even noon yet. 

He sighed, uncurling himself enough to run a hand through golden locks, wincing when he brushed against a sheer coating of frost.  Looks like he’d have to head into town earlier than he’d planned. He’d hoped to do some scouting before he went into town, get a read on the villagers and look for the Viridian Heart - not that the latter was necessary any more. 

But the villagers...his eyes narrowed contemplatively.  He hadn’t gone off on this quest without doing his research. He’d listened in on all the reports that the surviving knights had made to the monarchs, every single one.  And in all of them, the knights that _had_ gone into the village - though there hadn’t been many of them - had been treated with an icy disdain, and wariness. Alfred had initially blamed it on the knights’ tendencies towards arrogance and high-handedness - as most of the knights had come from the aristocracy and never ventured that far out if they could help it.  But the more he contemplated it, the more he was sure that wasn’t _all_ of it.  Some of it, sure.  But all of it?  He doubted it.

So, there might be something more to the villagers’ behavior.

It was a damn good thing that Alfred knew how to make his way around a place unnoticed.

He pushed himself into a sitting position, upright against the cave wall as the renewed fire burbled merrily.  He repacked his armor, thoroughly covering the slight silver shine it gave off in the light, and stowed it against the cave wall.  He would journey down to the town, and he would stay there for as long as it took, yes.  But he would make the cave his base.  He didn’t want any suspicion about who he was.

He tugged on the heavier, fur-lined jacket, with the hood, knowing that he would be trekking halfway up a mountain and then down the hill where the village was perched, right in the cradle of the mountain range as the winds raged. He repacked the rest of his belongings, choosing carefully what he would bring with him - discarding more obvious weapons that were seldom displayed in a small border town.

He slipped the less noticeable ones in concealed sheaths all over his body, neatly covered by his thick winter wear.  He wasn’t stupid enough to be completely unarmed in what could be considered hostile territory.

The sun gleamed, cresting the mountain and lighting the cave up in its glow. Alfred blinked at the sudden brightness, but smiled nonetheless.  His mentor had always said it was so beautiful up north, but Alfred had never grasped it until he’d seen it for himself.

Finally finished packing his supplies away, he re-wove the weave of spellwork that had kept his base safe the night before.  He tightened it even more, not even leaving a smidgen of room for anyone to trespass.  Then, he braced himself.

And he stepped outside the boundaries of his wards and into the frigid winter of the North.

It was a long walk down, he noted, tightening the weave on his clothing.  He was already freezing, and it looked like he wouldn’t make the town until nearly mid-afternoon.

 _Perfect_ , he thought, _absolutely perfect_.  Although...given his other option had been stay in the cave where the dragon knew he was and risk a barbecuing if the great beast managed to get past his wards...this was perfectly fine.

And so, off he went. 

It hours later, when he was had crested the snow-topped hill that he finally saw it.

The town was beautiful as the sun shone upon it - frost glazed from the recent snows and almost sparkling in the day’s glow.  It seemed warm, despite the despairing chill that had settled into the air. Alfred felt a smile tug on his lips, even as he pulled his scarf tighter against his face, shielding it from the dancing wind.  He so rarely had a chance to travel, that any moment he could spare to take it in was welcome.

The ominous flap of wing beats echoed against the mountains, and Alfred stilled, paling.  The wind was quiet for a moment, before they reassured him gently.  There was no threat to him nearby.

He sighed, before beginning his descent.  With a _lot_ more caution than he’d had beforehand.  With any luck he’d reach the village within a few hours, before darkness would descend for the night.  And hopefully, without any scaly, terrifying watchers tracking him down.

Golden eyes gleamed out of an unfamiliar face just behind him, from within a weave of white-topped evergreens.  They watched, a cunning, curious gleam in their depths, as the blue-hooded figure descend the mountain towards the town.

Things might just become interesting, indeed.

* * *

The village was breathtakingly beautiful, but all the same, it was just as every village Alfred had ever been to (not that he’d been to many, mind).

He passed through the village mostly unnoticed, just another face in the crowd. He’d dressed well for the temperature and the climate, and unlike the knights who overdid it for fear of winter’s winds, his attire blended perfectly.

He just had to find the tavern - though hopefully, it wouldn’t be too hard - and settle in.  He’d stay there for a week or so, until he could find a small flat to stay in long term. He was here for a year, after all. He couldn’t just pour all his money into the tavern’s inn.  Not to mention how suspicious that would seem.

He ventured through the town square, bustling and filled, all wanting to take advantage of the daylight hours.  It was in the marketplace of the square, where Alfred stopped to admire a cart, one of the few that braved the oncoming storm to make a few sales before the snows arrived once more. It was intricately carved, a surprise, as most merchant carts were built for function over form, and it was laden with beautiful carvings.  Only, to make it more interesting, the carvings were not of wood, but of precious and semi-precious stones.

He moved closer to the cart, leaning over to study the little figurines with a curious gleam in his eyes. 

It was as if he passed some sort of perimeter spell, he realized with a blink. It felt like he’d just dipped into a hot bath, the warmth soaking into his bones even as the chilled wind tossed and wove around him. He glanced around him, a touch of magic lighting his eyes, and eyed the wards with an almost breathtaking awe. He hadn’t seen wards like these since he’d watched his grandmother re-ward their home in the Capitol.

They were gleaming colors, like ribbons wound around each other and dancing through the sky.  Bright oranges and warm reds and yellows, like the colors of fire, twined around more subtle colors to strengthen the warmth and safety of the cart.  It was like watching a little light show around him...just breathtakingly -

“Beautiful,” he breathed. 

“Thanks, kid.” an amused voice said behind him, and he jumped.

He whirled around, only to come face to face with who he presumed was the owner of the cart.  The man was clearly comfortable within the wards, dressed in only one thin layer as he lounged against the wooden frame.  His amber-golden eyes gleamed as they studied Alfred lazily, set in a copper-toned face that the younger recognized as more common in the southern territories, and nearly non-existent this far north.

A lazy smirk curled on the man’s lips as he studied the young teenager, “You can see my wards.”

Alfred felt a sheepish smile come to his lips, “Not without effort,” he admitted, although he’d definitely sensed them. “They’re a work of art - just like the carvings.” 

“Ah,” the man chuckled, “a flatterer.”  He straightened from his lounging position, a few dark green bangs brushing his face before he shook them away.  His ink-dark kimono sleeves fell over gloved hands as he shifted.  “So,” he said, “anything I can interest you in?”  He gestured to his gleaming wares.

He was about shake his head, sheepish for having wasted the man’s time, when his eyes caught on one of the figurines.  It was an enchanting little rabbit, carved out of an almost glowing spring-sky blue stone.  Its head was tilted, nose mid-twitch, as if it was looking at the buyer with curiosity - wondering, what could possibly be so interesting about me?

Alfred felt his heart soften and his chest warm. He’d never told _anyone_ , given the heckling he’d probably get for admitting it, but bunny rabbits had always been his favorite animals.  When he was a kid, he used to carry one around wherever he went.  Sometimes it would sit on his head.  Even to this day, whenever he splayed himself out in a clearing in the woods on a nice day, within an hour, he’d be covered head-to-toe in woodland creatures.  And the little rabbits would curl up right on top of his heart.

He hadn’t even realized he was staring until the little figurine was picked up by the carver’s large, calloused palm, and held up for him.  He blinked.

“The rabbit, then?” the man said, the smile evident in the crinkle near amused golden eyes.  Odd, Alfred thought absently, for a second, it had looked like he was sharing an inside joke with himself.

“Oh no,” Alfred shook his head, pressing down the embarrassed flush that was making its way up his face, “I don’t think I could afford it at the moment.”

And really, he couldn’t.  Questing was expensive, and he’d taken the bare minimum he’d saved up from home.  His parents would’ve noticed anymore missing, and he’d be discovered far sooner.  But he had a plan, after all.  He’d make his money from the wares he could sell - and as a skilled young magic user, there were plenty of things he could make.

But that had been the other part of the scouting he’d planned to do earlier, before the dragon had disrupted his plans.  The mountains around this village had an unimaginable wealth of natural ice that was ready for harvesting - it was ice imbued with magic potential.  But it was also possible to manufacture the natural ice from its non-magical counterpart, so a very rare few mages dared the dangerous trek up into the mountain’s heart to harvest the ice and cart it down - a feat that was impossible for the non-magically inclined.  Alfred had done it once, by accident, and he’d _seen_ the difference in his spellcrafting between the manufactured ice and the natural one.  And he was an excellent rune carver - it took something like his tendency towards professional perfectionism to be good at rune carving - so he was positive he could make enough to keep afloat in the village as a craftsman.

But he hadn’t had much of a chance to collect any of the ice yet, thanks to the dragon.  He only had a few pieces in his bag, he’d been tinkering with them on the way here.  All the money he had was going to go towards lodgings, and he couldn’t spend even a penny elsewhere until he could get on his feet.

The craftsman watched the teen’s shoulders droop as he was contemplating the little statue, tilting his head in curiosity before nodding.  He grabbed the wrist that was hovering hesitantly near the statue, startling the teenager, and set the little rabbit statue into the winter-pale palm.

“No payment necessary, kid.” he murmured, studying summer-sky eyes with an odd curiosity.

Alfred’s smile lit up his face, brightening already brilliant blue eyes.  The crinkle of his wide smile only outlined the pale freckles dusted across his nose and cheeks, and the gold-eyed carver wondered, just for a moment, if the teenager had any idea how _young_ he looked.  Certainly not the nearly-of-age, which he was.

He closed the tanned hand around the rabbit figurine, and only smiled back at the sunny blond.

* * *

Ivan Braginsky was the blacksmith’s middle child and only son.  He was particularly skilled in his trade, and very proud about that fact.  He’d lived a good life, with little hardship aside from their mother’s passing when he was young.  His father’s trade provided for many of the weapons that went to the castle and sold for good money - so their well being was easily taken care of.  He himself had only been to the Capital once, as a child, but found he much preferred his life in the village, no matter the odd things that occasionally occurred nearby.

He was only one and twenty when Alfred F. Jones slipped into his life.  And he was sure he’d never forget it.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” was the first thing the teenager had said to him.  The younger had had the misfortune of slipping on a patch of black ice on the path, knocking him off of his feet and sending him sliding straight into the young blacksmith’s apprentice, who was already weighed down with metal scraps.

The clang that symbolized their collision echoed through the village.

Ivan winced as he pull himself out of the collision, offering a hand to the frantically apologetic teenager, who winced as he took it and stood.  People poked their heads into the small, out of the way path to check for the sound, but Ivan waved them off.

“God, I’m so sorry,” the teen exclaimed again, biting his lip, “are you alright?”

Ivan felt his back knot up just at the thought of moving, but the teenager in front of him looked so distraught, he bit back his somewhat vicious retort, and nodded.  “Yes, yes,” he said, “I will be fine.”

The teen slumped, “Oh, thank god.  I was worried.  I thought I heard a crack on the ground when you landed.”

Reluctantly, he felt an odd burst of warmth well up inside of him at this total stranger’s concern.  Along with the spike of pain from the aforementioned crack that had come from him landing on top of a flying piece of metal.

“I am well,” he assured the teenager, who brightened in relief.

“That’s good!  Um,” the tanned face seemed to flush in the dim, early evening light, “Sorry, I’m not the best at spotting black ice.”

“You must be new to the North, then,” Ivan said shrewdly, looking at the younger man more critically.  A newcomer in the village was always somewhat suspicious.

The teen brightened, sending an odd flutter off in Ivan’s stomach, “Yes, I am!” he said, “I’m staying at the tavern up near the marketplace for now, but I’m looking for a flat.” Now the teen’s expression turned sheepish, “The barkeep sent me down this way to see the seamstress about an availability, but I think I got lost a few turns ago.”

He blinked at the sudden stream of words, but even as suspicious as he was, the newcomer had a sort of charm to him.  Then he blinked as the words hit him. 

“The seamstress?” he asked, almost incredulously. 

“...yes?” the teen said, almost hesitantly.

“The seamstress lives off of the main square,” he said flatly, “which is half an hour’s walk from here.”  That was nearly half the village’s distance.

Blue eyes went wide, “ _That far?!_ ”

Ivan nodded wordlessly, and watched, almost amused, as the teenage smacked his hand to his forehead and groaned.  “I’ve been walking for ages, I guess I really got turned around.”  Blue eyes peered at him contemplatively, “Would you be able to give me directions, sir?”

The _sir_ felt awkward coming out of his mouth, even to Ivan.  But the pale-haired apprentice shrugged it off, leaving it for tomorrow’s contemplation.

“I suppose, I could take you there,” he mused, “my sister Katya is a seamstress - she just married, so we were hoping to sell off her flat.”

The teen’s face lit up, and Ivan felt the odd fluttering in his stomach again.  He must be coming down with something, he thought, he would ask Katya. 

“It’s just up this way,” he said, instead of contemplating it further, gesturing back the way the teen had come.  “Let me show you…”

“Thank you so much!” the younger exclaimed, before he paused, and slapped a hand to his forehead.  “Oh god, I forgot!”  He turned to Ivan, big, bright, sincere blue eyes prominent in his face even in the evening gloom, and he smiled, “My name’s Alfred F. Jones!  It’s nice to meetcha!”

That fluttering in his stomach was becoming _very_ insistent, he thought, instead of considering how that beautiful smile shone even in the darkening twilight.  He really must speak to Katya.

“I am Ivan Braginsky,” he said, lips quirking at the excitement that seem to exude from Alfred, “and it is a pleasure to meet you as well.”

* * *

 “Ah, hello?” Alfred almost dropped a box at the sound of the voice at his door, whirling around, only to catch sight of a mostly familiar figure hovering in his door jamb.

“Ah! You’re Ivan,” he exclaimed, recognizing the familiar figure who’d escorted him all the way up to the seamstress’s house when he’d gotten lost a week ago.  “Thank you again for helping me last week!  How’s your back?”

Alfred felt his heart warm, “Aww, that was sweet of her,” he chirped, moving forwards to take the offered dish, “Please give her my thanks!”  It smelled absolutely heavenly, and his stomach growled just at the scent.  

“So...what exactly do you do?” the blacksmith inquired awkwardly, trying to fill the odd silence that had fallen between them.

“Hmm, oh,” Alfred hummed, startled from placing the dish on his warming rack, “I’m a craftsman!” he chimed.  “Y’all have a wealth of natural ice up in the mountains, you know?  That’s magically conducive.  I’m an excellent rune carver.  It was natural to set up here, where the access to my source is the easiest.”

Ivan felt his eyebrows hitching up at that statement.  Easy?  But he said nothing as he listened to Alfred hum as he prepared food for the two of them.

Something told him that life with Alfred around was going to be far more interesting than it usually was.

* * *

“Are you sure all you’re doing is collecting ice, up there?” an incredulous voice greeted him as he slid down the last few meters of the snow bank.  Alfred blinked the snow out of his eyes and caught sight of Ivan, staring at him with a mix of concern and incredulity.

He paused for a moment, to admire the muscles he could see in the tense lines of the somewhat lighter spring jacket the other man had donned.  Ivan had taken over as blacksmith over the last month, after his father’s back injury had made working impossible.  Fortunately, as skilled as Ivan was, he was able to take over with little, if any, consequence to the family wellness.  Not to mention the strength it added to his frame for his quiet admirers, like Alfred.

Alfred shook the thought away, though, and smiled brightly at the other man, chirping, somewhat breathlessly, “Sure am!” as he staggered upright, hauling up the bag of ice he’d collected and took off towards his flat.

Ivan blinked in disbelief, and sped after him.  “Alfred,” he said, disbelief lining every syllable, “you look like someone threw you through a fire ring that self-combusted.”

Alfred blinked, “Actually,” he muttered to himself, almost too soft for Ivan to hear, walking faster, “that’s pretty much exactly what happened.”

Ivan’s eyes widened, alarmed, “What?!”

“Pffft, what?” Alfred laughed, denying it with a cheerful smile, even as he cursed the dragon’s fondness for searing flames over vicious talons and Ivan’s impossible observation skills to the depths of hell, “Where would I run into fire in an ice cave?”

Ivan’s eyebrow raised as he caught up to him in a few strides; _that_ wasn’t convincing at all.

* * *

“Alfred?!”

Said Alfred cursed at the all too observant blacksmith who was standing in the outside forge just where Alfred had popped up after another round robin with the dragon.

“Hey Ivan!” he chirped, trying to discreetly move his nearly burned out sack of ice somewhere where the too-observant blacksmith wouldn’t notice it’s smoldering state, “you’re up late!”

Because yes, three-ish hours until dawn was definitely up late.

“Is your bag _on fire_?!”

“Pfft, no,” he denied cheerily, “what makes you say tha - ,” there was a whoosh from behind him, and he jumped down the rest of the hill just as his bag ignited behind him.

The two of them stared at the merrily crackling bag, and the few stray pieces of ice that had escaped its barbecuing, in silence.  Alfred could swear he heard the dragon cackling in the distance.

“Heh heh...whoops.”

Oooh, that glare was not nice…

* * *

“Fucking lizard…”

“Alfred?!”

Alfred winced at the very familiar, slightly incredulous call, and turned to see the blacksmith walking his way.  Ivan looked, well, no longer quite _surprised_ , but definitely exasperated.

“Heh heh, hey, Ivan!” he tried to exclaim cheerily, but his voice was almost stripped by that last close encounter with the dragon’s flames.  It sounded like he’d gargled with sharp rocks, and he winced.

Ivan looked at his singed figure, soot-blackened from head to toe, and sighed. “I’ll drop by with some burn balm.”

Alfred beamed at him.

* * *

“Morning Ivan!” Alfred chirped cheerfully.  It had been a wonderful two weeks up in the mountains.  He’d gotten the closest he had yet to the castle where the dragon had made his lair, the dragon hadn’t been in the mountains at all, he’d managed to lay some basic recon wards around the lair, and he’d gotten material for at least two months worth of wares he could sell!  And best of all, he hadn’t been singed, scorched, seared, charred, or burned in any fashion in the last month!  Oh, it was a good day.

Until Ivan, who’d been eyeing him with an odd gleam in his eye, changed direction entirely, and grabbed him by his arm before dragging him, spluttering and all, back to his house.

“Wha - ,” he blurted, before what was happening seemed to register, and he yelped, “Ack, Ivan, let go!”

Ivan, of course, paid no heed to Alfred’s frantic and failed attempts to get out of his grip.  He grunted at the familiar gold-eyed craftsman they passed and Alfred called out a somewhat garbled greeting with a wave as Ivan dragged him away.

The gold-eyed craftsman blinked and watched them go for almost a full minute before he chuckled to himself and continued his path out of the village.

Back with Alfred, Ivan had finally gotten him inside his cottage five minutes later, and stared him down as the teenager squirmed in the armchair.

Violet eyes stared down bright, guileless blue ones, and Ivan stated, “You’re a knight,” before he leaned back and watched for the reaction.

He sure as hell got one. 

“WHAAAT???  PSSH, where’d you get that idea?” he blurted, almost shrinking into himself when he saw the glare leveled his way.

“You’re running into the dragon, that’s where,” he snorted as Alfred blanched. “The dragon keeps away from the townsfolk doing business or venturing up in the mountain, that’s the reason we don’t do anything that angers him.”

“Good to know,” Alfred said weakly.  Well, at least he knew why the knights hadn’t been overly welcomed in the town.  The townspeople saw the dragon as _protection_.

Those violet eyes leveled him with another stare, “Yes, and then there’s _you_.  You, who come down from your trips into the mountain singed, charred, and in every state of burning I’ve ever seen.  Which means either you’re terrible at making fires - and you wouldn’t have made it all this way out North if you had been - or you’re running into the dragon.  And the only people the dragon plays with is the knights who’ve been coming up in search of the Viridian Heart.”

Alfred, who’d been shrinking into his chair the longer Ivan talked, slumped at that. He sighed, straightening, and looked Ivan right in the eyes, “Fine,” he said.  “I’m...not quite a knight,” he admitted, “I’m still training.  But I did come because I wanted to retrieve the Queen Mother’s circlet.”

Ivan raised a brow, asking wordlessly for elaboration.  Alfred shrugged.

“You might want to pull up a chair,” he said, resigned, “It’s a bit of a long story.”

* * *

It hadn’t been a very trying day he’d planned. It was actually, a relatively easy one. Summer had just begun, and with it, a massive shift in the climate had arrived.  But one thing that hadn’t changed: he had finalize his plan for the rest of the year.  In late Spring, he’d begun to notice that the dragon wasn’t _always_ present at the mountain castle he’d claimed.  As the weather began to improve, the dragon seemed to be present less and less.  In fact, one two-week period he’d spent up in the mountains, he hadn’t seen the dragon at all.  His magic, the thin strip he’d used to set up a come-and-go ward near the dragon’s lair, had confirmed the same thing.  In fact, it was only two days after Alfred had returned to the town that the dragon returned to his lair.

If Alfred could plan around the dragon to get into his lair and snatch the Viridian Heart, it would by far be the more successful, less dangerous plan.

The other part of his day revolved around collecting more ice for carving, and retrieving those he’d carved on his last two-week venture back into the mountains.  As the summer had just begun, the weather - while still cold - had warmed considerably.  The trip, which once took almost the entire day from his cave down to the village, was now perhaps a matter of hours.  Especially now that the snow closer to the village had begun to recede.

 But even for all the positive things he’d accounted for on today’s trip, he hadn’t considered the handful of negatives.

It seemed, his pack had finally had enough. The numberless searings and scorchings and charrings had finally left it too weak, and on his way down, the bottom seam of his pack finally came undone, and over a month’s hard work spilled out onto the snow.  He nearly dropped the pack as he took several steps back, watching the cascade of gleaming, rune-carved ice scatter across the small hill he was climbing.  He sighed as he eyed the mess, bringing two fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose in order to stave off the headache. Just a moment of peace, that was all he needed.

That was also what saved him.

Had he still been struggling against the harsh early summer winds, dragging his pack uphill, he might’ve missed the drowned out sound of wings beating in the air.  As it was, the winds had quieted for a brief second, as he’d tried to drown his headache in the chill air, and his ears twitched just as he caught the sound.

And he dove to the side in a furious, magic boosted leap, just in time to avoid the stream of fire that seared down the spot where he’d been standing only a split-second earlier.

He stared at the smoldering remains of the work in his pack, and he felt a vein twitch in his forehead.

“That was a month’s worth of work, you asshole!”

And then, the dragon was chasing him again, half-way down the mountain, snickering all the way.  He swore this bastard had it out for him.

* * *

Ivan stopped in the middle of his walk home as the evening descended, to stare at the somewhat scorched, breathless, familiar figure of his friend ( _love-interest, crush, infatuation, shut up little voice in my head_ ) as the other made his way to his flat.

Alfred caught sight of him and scowled, “Don’t. Ask.”

* * *

“You’ve been disappearing up the mountain again, darling.”

Alfred froze at the sound of Ivan’s familiar, disapproving voice, even as his stomach did an odd little flutter at the sound of the word “darling.”

The _darling_ had come along after Alfred’s southern-influenced tendency to call people “hun” showed itself, especially people he was close to.  Alfred could still remember the first time Ivan had called him that, tone low and teasing, rolling the world _darling_ in his mouth like it was something precious. He’d frozen just as soon as it had left his mouth, as if he’d said it without intending to, but Alfred had beamed at him, retorted easily enough to whatever point he’d been making, and called him, “hun,” at the end of it, and Ivan had relaxed.

Though they’ve been doing this back and forth for a while now, it hadn’t stopped sending a curl of warmth through Alfred every time he heard that word.

Even Ivan’s annoyance couldn’t stop that.

He steeled himself, and turned around, beaming brightly at the other man.  “Aww, hun, how else am I supposed to get any work done?” he drawled.

Ivan scowled as he stepped out of the shadows to join him, walking in step with him up to his flat.  The lights were dark in the storefront beneath the flat, so the baker had already packed up and left for home.  Alfred sighed with some relief; at least they could speak more freely than they could’ve if the baker was still at work.

Ivan at least waited until Alfred had closed and locked the door before he turned to him with a fierce scowl, “You’re _limping_ , Alfred,” he practically hissed.

Alfred snorted, “The dragon was feeling _playful_ today,” he drawled, recalling the almost cat and mouse-like game they’d ‘played’.  Alfred had darted through the forest while the dragon would wait, and then strike, snickering all the while as the teenage knight-t0-be struggled to hide himself effectively.  The teen was still convinced the dragon had let him go too easily.  Especially since, at mid-summer, the dragon should’ve been even stronger than he was at mid-winter, when he first encountered the great beast.

Ivan growled, marching straight over to where Alfred kept his emergency aid kit, before unclenching his hands and turning to him with a powerful stare.  “Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” he demanded.  “You’ve had a plan in mind for _months_ , Alfred.  You could’ve made an attempt by now.  You’re not _incompetent_ ,” the last word was almost snarled.  The slam of his aid kit onto the countertop echoed through the flat, almost sending the little rabbit figurine tumbling from its little display stand.

Alfred bit back a retort before he let it go with a sigh, moving towards the couch.  He glanced over his shoulder at where Ivan was furiously unwinding the bandages Alfred kept in his aid kit.

“To be honest,” he began, meeting violet eyes the moment they turned to him, “I’m...I think I’m dragging the quest out.  For strategic reasons, of course, but...also,” he swallowed heavily, “I’m not used to this.”

Ivan slowed his movements, a single brow lifted in inquiry, “This?” he asked.

Alfred nodded slowly, “The...the freedom y’all have, up here.”  Alfred let his eyes slip closed, well aware of the tone of awe that was creeping into his voice, “I don’t know if you understand, Ivan - you were born here.  I just, I think I’d love this place just for that alone.  But I’ve got so much more I can love it for - the people, the environment, you -,” Alfred choked, “I mean, how you take care of me.  I’ve never had that, you know.  People who cared for me, just because of _me_.  Not because they want something from me.”

Ivan blinked, somewhat concerned.  “But your parents, your siblings - Alfred, I’ve heard you tell stories about them.  You adore them.”

Alfred’s laugh was bitter this time, head still tilted back up against the wall.  “Yeah, I do,” he admitted, bitterly, quietly - as though he couldn’t help it, “but they...they don’t understand.  I’m not like them.  My parents love me because I’m their son.  But they don’t know who I am, only who they think I should be.  My brother’s the complete opposite of me - he never understands why I do what I do.  He’s never tried, either.  My sister’s maybe the only one who understands.”

He laughed again, and Ivan’s heart hurt hearing the despair in it, “They don’t even know I’m here,” he admitted quietly.

“Alfred…”

“Ivan,” Alfred’s tone had sharpened as the teen turned to him, eyes serious, “do you know why I want to solve this quest and get the circlet?”

Ivan narrowed his eyes, “You told me it was because you wanted to prove yourself, that it was a test of some sorts.”  The unspoken, _did you lie to me_ , hung in the air briefly.  Alfred smiled weakly.

“It was that,” he said quietly, “but that’s not _all_ of it.  I want it, because ever since she was little, my sister wanted to wear that circlet on her wedding day.  She’s listened to stories of Gre-, I mean, the Queen Mother - the strong bastion of female strength and dominance and triumph - and idolized her, Ivan.  And now, she’s getting married.  And I want her to walk down the aisle on her wedding day, with the Viridian Heart on her head.”

Ivan raised a brow, because he knew Alfred could be optimistic and somewhat naïve at times, but not to this level.  “Do you think the royal family will make such an allowance?  The whole point of the quest was to retrieve the circlet for Princess Michele’s wedding.”

Alfred looked at him dead in the eye, smile faint and tired, “Exactly.”

For a second, Ivan didn’t connect the pieces. Couldn’t, almost, because when his mind _did_ connect them, he was still in denial.  _No_ , it said, _there was no way_.  There was no way that Alfred - his ball of sunshine, so comfortable in the village, so cheerful and innocent, and capable - could be _Prince Alfred_ , the heir to the entire kingdom, after Prince Matthew...

Ivan sighed aggressively, scrubbing a hand over his face.  “ _Why must you be so infuriatingly cute?_ ” he complained to himself in his native tongue, because surely, if Alfred wasn’t so adorable, he wouldn’t have nearly as hard a time resisting the teenager’s charm. Alfred lit up with laughter.

He looked over at the teenager in surprise, and nearly stumbled in shock when Alfred retorted, “ _Well, you’re not so bad yourself, handsome_ ,” in _Ivan’s native language_.

Ivan shook off his shock as Alfred laughed, “You’re a prince,” he said wryly, shaking his head, “I suppose I should’ve expected that.”

“Sure as sugar,” the teenager drawled, laughing, “just don’t spread that around.”

Ivan scoffed, “Who do you take me for, the baker?” They both paused and looked at each other, before erupting in outrageous laughter.  The baker might not have said anything, but her sister Elizabeta, the musician’s wife and town gossip, most definitely would’ve.

Alfred snapped out of his laughter first, eyes gleaming with emotion unsaid, and he went right up to Ivan and wrapped his arms tightly around the other man, who froze.  “Thank you,” he whispered, full of emotion.

“Of course, darling,” he said into the dark wheat locks under his chin, “Of course.”

* * *

The equinox was on its approach, leaves falling and the first of the snows already making their way into the village, when Ivan finally made the move most of the village had been betting on for months now.

It was heading towards dusk, and Alfred was with all the other craftspeople in the marketplace, closing down his stall.  The gold-eyed craftsman - whose name no one actually knew - studied the golden-haired teenager put away his wares with an almost fond air.

“You’ve gotten a lot better since you first came out here, you know?” he mused, directing his comment to the teenager, who beamed at the praise.

“Thanks!” he chirped, tying down the last of his wares within the cart before tugging down the flaps to close it off, warding it with an easy wave of his hand. He looked to his gold-eyed neighbor with a curious gleam in his eyes, “You’re not closing up yet?” he asked, concerned, “The winds said the snows were coming in early tonight.”

A smile drew on the man’s face, “No,” he said, “I think I’ll be fine for a little while longer.”  His eyes darted off somewhere behind Alfred, and his smile grew into a familiar smirk that Alfred was sure was his default expression, “I think your lover boy’s waiting for you.”

A somewhat mulish expression came to Alfred’s flushed, flustered face, “He’s not my -!”

“Alfred?”

The teenager whirled around, face brightening even as the flush remained, “Ivan!” he exclaimed, ignoring the golden-eyed craftsman snickering behind him, “What are you - are those flowers?”

And, indeed, Ivan had a bouquet of some truly beautiful late blooming autumn flowers. He seemed awfully nervous, too. Part of which Alfred attributed to the amount of people who’d suddenly appeared on the edges of the market square, watching Ivan with their purses ready at hand.  Some, he noticed, with very disgruntled looks.

What on earth was that about?

Ivan, of course, didn’t answer his query about the flowers, but instead stared at him for a moment, and then breathed in deeply, as if gathering his courage.

“Alfred,” he said, taking another deep breath in, “would you like to go to dinner with me?”

Alfred blinked, “We eat dinner all the time together,” he pointed out, confused.

Ivan flushed a bit, “I mean - dinner, just the two of us dinner.”

Alfred blinked again.  What did that mean?

Seeing Alfred’s baffled look, and knowing the oblivious love-of-his-life probably didn’t understand what was going on at all, he blurted, “I’m kind of in love with you.”

The entire market seemed to freeze.

Alfred paused, to take that in, and then blurted “I think I’m kind of in love with _you_ ,” and then he flushed in tune with Ivan when he heard the gold-eyed craftsman snicker behind them.

“Only kind of?” he heard the man murmur, amused.  Alfred just went redder.

“So, ah,” Ivan muttered, “dinner?”

“Like, a date, dinner?” Alfred asked, almost bashfully, beaming when Ivan nodded.

“Great!” the golden-eyed craftsman cheered from behind him, and both he and Ivan jumped alongside half the market square.  “That means I won the bet!”

“What bet?” they demanded in unison, as what seemed like half the village seemed to appear in the market square, grumpily handing over money bags to the gold-eyed craftsman, who surveyed them with satisfaction.

“Oh nothing, really,” the man murmured, “just the bet about when one of you would ask the other out.”

“There was a _bet_?!”

“Ooh yep,” he nodded, “since Alfred moved into Katya’s old flat.”

“WHAT??!!!”

Ivan cleared his throat after that particular shout, glaring at the golden-eyed man before turning to Alfred, asking again, “So...dinner?”

Alfred beamed at him, “I’d love to.”

* * *

It was in the middle of the night when the idea came to him.

Alfred shot up in bed, blankets falling down to his waist, before he turned to the figure sleeping next to him.  “Ivan - Ivan wake up!”

“Wh-what?” the irate blacksmith said around a yawn, blinking awake in the dark, “Fedya, it’s not even morning yet!”

“Armor weave!” he blurted excitedly, and Ivan blinked, “You told me you could make a type of mesh netting that acts as armor, right?  Well, if we made a full set, I could engrave them with a set of runes. I’ll have to double check which ones would work together in a metal chain, and it would take forever, but it’d be next to impenetrable if we could!”

Ivan was silent for a moment, contemplative in the shadow of moonlight, before turned to Alfred and he said, “I’ll do it,” he paused, “on one condition.”

Alfred tilted his head, “What is it?”

Violet eyes pierced him through the darkness, the drive in them left Alfred breathless and with no room to deny it.  “You’ll take me with you when you take the circlet.”

Alfred’s eyes widened, “Wha-,”

“It’s non-negotiable, Alfred,” he interrupted him there, eyes sharp, “I refuse to let you risk yourself like that without any back up.  You’ve already told me you’re not fully trained.  You’ve never fought a dragon before - and so many veteran knights who’ve tried have failed!”

“Ivan,” he scowled, “the whole plan is to sneak in while the dragon’s out on one of the away periods.  He’ll be gone long enough that we could sneak in and grab the circlet.”

“We can’t guarantee that,” Ivan countered, “there’s a chance you will encounter the dragon.  I want to be there with you.  And you _know_ I can fight - as well as you can, darling. I will not weigh you down on your quest.”

Alfred’s scowl softened.  There was a soft pause, “Would you’ve made one even if I said no?” he asked.

“Of course,” Ivan said, without pause, “if it kept you safe.  But it would just mean you would have to deal with me sneaking off after you without another pair to watch your back.”

Alfred huffed.  Why did he have to fall in love with someone as stubborn as himself?

“Fine,” he murmured grumpily, even as his heart felt warm, “we can start planning it tomorrow.”

“Good,” Ivan huffed, “now go back to sleep.”  He proceeded to turn over and do just that.

Alfred huffed, turning his gaze away for a split second, which was when he noticed the breeze in the room.  He frowned at the window, which had opened by a hair as if on its own.  He stared at it for a moment, contemplative, but as Ivan started grumbling about the cold coming in, he dismissed his worries.  It must’ve just been a harsh wind pushing the panel open, he thought idly, brushing off the niggling concern.  He extricated himself from the comfy bed and his lover’s warm grip with a grumpy shiver, and made his way to the window. He pushed it closed with a huff, pausing for a second when it almost seemed like there had been a giggle in the air, before shrugging it off.  But before he turned to head back to bed, he warded the windows in Ivan’s house, just like he’d done with the ones in his flat.

Just in case.

 _Just in case_.

And then, like any sane person who was up at that hour, he turned into bed, wrapped himself in his blanket as his lover latched on to him, and went right back to sleep.

* * *

It was winter again, and it was finally time to put their plan into action.  Alfred looked out the cave’s opening into the clear skies.  The wind had whispered of a blizzard approaching later tonight, and the dragon was nowhere to be seen.  This was their best chance to get the circlet before the solstice.

“Ready to sneak around the dragon?” Alfred chirped, pushing away the nervousness as he turned to look at his lover over his shoulder. Ivan smirked, even as he felt butterflies dancing in his stomach.  He fastened the last of the thin armor weave around his lover and smirked.

“Ready.”

In the end, what got them wasn’t their incompetence. After a year’s worth of hard work and ceaseless scouting, no one knew the mountains better than Alfred, and their plan had been as close to perfect as possible.  With Ivan joining in on his effort - because his love had refused to let Alfred go it alone, especially as he wasn’t fully trained - they’d kitted themselves out with the necessary weapons.  Ivan and Alfred had even brainstormed a special type of netting that functioned as lightweight armour.  It was an armor weave that functioned as both defence and protection for the two of them.  It had taken months for Ivan to craft the two sets, and hour after painstaking hour of burning the midnight oil for Alfred to engrave every inch of the weave with runes for their protection, warmth, and healing.  And just before the winter solstice, they’d finally been ready.

No.  What got them in the end, was underestimating the dragon.  And forgetting that the dragon was over centuries old...and just as smart and cunning as any human, if not more so.

They’d snuck in when the wards had read clear of the dragon and walked straight into a trap out of a nightmare.

All the recon Alfred had done, all his intrinsic connection to the wind and the earth used to their fullest extent...and never once had he known that the dragon had _wind spirits_ which protected his castle while he was away.  Two very excitable twin spirits that tangled them in rope before they blew them off the side of the highest tower.  Alfred’s fingers had skimmed the crowning jewel of the Viridian Heart before he’d been tossed off the ledge.

And now they were hanging by their ankles from a rope trap, dangling over the tower’s ledge with laughing wind spirits inside the tower, and ominous wing flaps echoing in the not-so-far distance.

“I can take both of us!” he insisted desperately as they strained against the already fraying rope ( _It was a lie, a lie, a lie, a lie, he could barely concentrate long enough to get himself down_ ).  Ivan shook his head.

“No,” he shouted over the riotous winds, and their screaming warnings of the dragon approaching, “get down, Alfred!  Then you can get me down!”

And before Alfred could protest, Ivan pulled himself up into an almost seated position - and now was _not_ the time to be admiring the core strength that move took - and looked at him apologetically.

 _Get ready_ , he mouthed, before he wrapped a hand around the fraying rope holding Alfred up. In one fluid move, he unsheathed one of the daggers on his forearm and sliced the thin cord.

Alfred tumbled _down_ and down and down, and finally, _finally_ , the wind grabbed him desperately, almost frenzied as they righted him and lowered him down to the ground soundlessly.

His breath hitched when he righted himself and he watched as Ivan dropped another foot from where he was, already so very, _very_ far from the lip of the tower’s opening. His heart fell into his stomach when he heard the familiar ( _dreaded_ ) swish of wings overhead.

A whisper of fire lashed through the air, providing just the necessary scorching to snap the rope - an audible thing Alfred could hear echoing in his brain as his heart rate tripled - and Ivan tumbled _down_ , and down, and down...Alfred leapt forwards, winds lashing up, desperately, and a cry ripping from his lips as he _lunged_ \- only to be thrown back as the dragon’s tail crashed down on the snow covered ground in front of him.  His momentum carried him into a head-on impact with the dragon’s muscled tail, before he was whipped away - tossed yards back before rolling to a stop in another bank of snow.

He looked up just in time to see Ivan hit the ground, impacting hard on his side, his head making a sickening slap as he rolled to a stop against a bed of rocks nearby.

Everything inside him seemed to _freeze_ , not even drawing breath, until he realized that the winds were whispering frantically into his ears.

 _Alive_ , they assured, _alive_.  And Alfred could’ve cried.

Alfred F. Jones was a knight-in-training.  He was very proud of that fact.

However, Alfred F. _Kirkland_ was a prince (though not Crown Prince, thank god).  He was not quite as proud of that fact.

Ivan Braginsky was one and twenty when he met the love of his life.  At least, that’s what he thought was true.

Truthfully, Ivan Braginsky had been ten years old when he’d first encountered the little golden ball of mischief that currently went by Alfred F. Jones.  Alfred had been six years old and a precocious child to all who knew him well. Prone to good cheer, he loved to dance and play and run through the streets, his chiming laughter echoing in the hearts of all those who encountered him.  Alfred had seen Ivan from the high towers of his home, and had noted the sadness that seemed draped over the other boy.  And the precocious child that he was disliked the expression so much, that he dropped a weave of sunflowers atop the pale mop of hair and darted away before any of the crowd could make him out.  For Alfred was silly and precocious, and all of six years of age - but he was not stupid.  And he would not make the sad boy a target of attention the way Alfred always, always was.

Ivan left the Capital with the sunflowers perched on his head, the warmth of the gesture comforting the cold sadness of his mother’s passing.  Sunflowers would become his favorite flowers.  He would never know who gave it to him.

Alfred left for his home, the imprint of a warm smile curling in the back of his mind.  Promising to himself that he would find the other boy one day, and make sure he was still smiling like that.

And, by some miraculous chance of fate, he _had_.  More than that, Ivan smiled now because of him - because...because he _loved_ him.

Ivan had let him get down first, had told him to - refused to go if Alfred didn’t get down first.  Alfred could ease the way down for him once he was on solid ground, he’d said.  And Alfred had _tried_ , even as the dragon had thrown him _away_.

Like hell was Alfred going to let the dragon damn them when they’d only just found each other.

He staggered upright, leaning up against the evergreen tree he’d been thrown next to.  He could feel the aches in every part of his body, even as he felt the tingle of magic as the tiny runes he’d carved into the armor weave warmed his body and tried to stabilize any injury he’d procured.

His breath almost stuttered when he realized the dragon was _still in front of him_ , only instead of attacking him, he was watching him.  That great head tilted, as if curious, while golden eyes drilled into him. In the back of his mind, an odd sense of _familiarity_ arose.  But then, the dragon began to speak, and it was pushed to the side.

“You’re an interesting one,” the great beast rumbled, “smarter, at least, than your comrades.”

Alfred blinked.  What on earth did that mean?

The dragon caught the look and laughed; a great, rumbling thing, that might’ve buried them all in an avalanche had there not been wards in place to safeguard against that very thing.

“I was wondering if you were ever going to try for the circlet,” the dragon mused, “for some time, I thought you’d forgotten about it entirely.  Busy as you were, enjoying life and,” the dragon shifted his tail, the tip pointed unnervingly close to where Ivan lay prone, “ _love_.”

Alfred swallowed, pale.

“All I’ve heard of, about knights of your ilk, is that you’re brash, bold, and brave.  Brave enough to be here, certainly,” the dragon allowed, eyes critical, “but you didn’t want to confront me at all, did you?  That’s why you wove wards around my lair, and layered them, so I wouldn’t notice.”

More like hoped and prayed that the dragon wouldn’t realize the subtle additions to the wards Alfred had set up.  But he had.  And, more than that, the dragon had been able to _use_ the wards to lure Alfred into a trap of his own making.

“Now, here’s where the story changes, doesn’t it?” the dragon smiled, all fangs and teeth and a terror he’s never felt before shot down Alfred’s spine.  "You've got a choice, between life and love and duty - the two things there that you've been enjoying over the last year, and the one you've been avoiding."

“Well, then, little knight, what’ll it be?” the dragon’s tone was more sinister now, and Alfred swallowed, “Will you try and fight me?  If you can injure me before I get to you, you can walk free with your little blacksmith and your life.  If you walk away, you leave alive, but your blacksmith will have to leave on his own. And I doubt he would last long with all those injuries.”

The wet sound of Ivan’s impact with the ground - even with the armour weave - echoed in his brain and weighted his heart. No.  He couldn’t leave Ivan.  But neither was _he_ in any state to fight a dragon and win.  Even in full health, he doubted his ability to do so.  He was only eighteen - he wasn’t even a full knight!  He didn’t even have a weapon!  He’d lost them in the tower.

But he had to do _something_.  And he couldn’t return empty-handed.  What would that get him?  Pity? Shame?  Discharge from knighthood, certainly - for disobeying the rules to such an extent without any reward to prove him in the right.  Just another failure from another failed…

Wait.

He looked up at the dragon, who’d been waiting expectantly for the teenager to make his decision.

“Would-,” his voice faltered, hoarse, but he soldiered on, “would you, if we could, would you _trade_ the Viridian Heart, for anything we have or could acquire?”

The dragon stared at the brave little knight - unarmed, disheveled, exhausted, and out of options but one - who’d had the _gall_ to _ask_ him what he wanted in exchange for the Viridian Heart…

Alfred jolted when the Dragon threw back his great head and _laughed_ ; a rich, deep, and utterly terrifying sound that sent his heart racing double time, as if it hadn’t already been pounding in response to the adrenaline rushing through his veins. Ivan didn’t move from where he’d been knocked unconscious by the base of the tower.

The dragon’s laughter petered off as those rich golden eyes studied him lazily, but curious and contemplative all the same. The dragon _humphed,_ resettling atop the tower where he’d nearly dislodged himself with the force of his laughter.  He considered the little fleshling beneath him.

“Bold of you, little princeling,” he chuckled, even as Alfred flinched at the title.  How on Earth did the dragon know _that_?! “But smart.  I do like that.  Very well,” the dragon cleared his throat and Alfred’s ears perked up.  Did that mean what he thought it did?  “I think I should like a damsel.”

His mind blanked.  What?

Unfortunately, his actual reaction was just as inelegant, “Huh?”

The dragon, thankfully, looked amused at his bafflement.

“If you take the circlet, I will require a damsel. You will remain here in my tower, as part of my treasure, and I will barbecue and terrify the knights that come to seek your freedom.”

Alfred’s brain geared to a halt.  “You want _me_?” he said, in complete disbelief, “As a _damsel_?”  And okay, that last part came out a bit pitchy, but honestly, who would blame him. 

The dragon blinked, as if he couldn’t understand why Alfred was so completely thrown by this revelation.  “Well, yes.”

Alfred stared, “ _Why_?”

The dragon shrugged, great shoulders heaving and scales shining ominously in the sun, as if the answer was _obvious_.  “It will make up for the entertainment I will be missing should the circlet leave.”

“Entertainment?” Alfred parroted, still utterly baffled.

“Yes, of course,” the dragon huffed, a trail of smoke billowing out of his mouth, blowing into the east wind as it dissipated. “Do you have any idea how boring it is guarding a hoard no one tries to pilfer?”

Alfred blinked.

“This has been the most entertainment I’ve had in over a century - since that damned thief I took the circlet from tried to steal from me!  No one knew I even existed, let alone dared to challenge me.  The town nearby is sufficiently terrified me, and provides satisfying offerings of livestock and treasure every now and then. No need to terrify them anew, so no knights come to pacify the townsfolk’s fear.   The knights seek out more daring challenges than a _mere_ dragon and his hoard.”

The dragon was... _bored_?

“Honestly,” the dragon growled, “is it too much to ask that the knights of the kingdom seek me out and challenge me?  And now, when I’m finally getting my entertainment, you want to take away the source of it?” The dragon snorted, made slightly more terrifying by the smoke trail and the hint of burning embers that the twin wind sprites carried away.  “No, I won’t let you take the circlet without replacing it with something more entertaining.”

“And…” honestly, Alfred’s brain was just not working today, “you want _me_?”

The dragon raised a brow - wait, did they even have eyebrows?  “Yes,” he said, slowly, tilting his great head and studying the stunned young knight-in-training.

“But,” he started haplessly, flailing a bit, “why _me_?”

“Well, you’re a prince, aren’t you?” the dragon snickered at his gobsmacked look, as if it was that simple.  “The apple of your father’s eye, beloved by all your people, etcetera etcetera - you’re the perfect bait for knights.”

“Not a princess?”

The dragon snorted, “I’ve never cared for the fussy defenseless type - no, you’ll be a much better treasure.”

“Treasure?”

The dragon tilted his head again, curious, “Are you always this slow, or is it just the shock?”

Alfred made an inarticulate noise originating from so many emotions he couldn’t place.  The dragon nodded sagely, as if this was an answer. 

“The shock, then.  Good to know.”

Ivan groaned, stirring briefly, and interrupting the other unintelligible noise Alfred had locked behind his teeth, before he stilled again.  The dragon turned his head to Ivan, golden eyes contemplative, and Alfred felt a shiver run down his spine.

The dragon smiled, and it wasn’t exactly a _nice_ thing.  It was as if something was tremendously amusing to the dragon, but he’d be the only one who found it funny.

“You could stay for his sake,” the dragon suggested, voice low and suggestive, an odd smirk coming to that large face.

 _That_ gave Alfred his voice back.  “What do you mean, for his sake?” he asked, eyes narrowed.

The dragon snorted.  “You’re a prince, little mageling,” he drawled, baring his fangs in a smile, “Do you _really_ think anyone in the capitol would be okay with you leaving your duties for a _commoner_?  Much less a villager from the border.”

Alfred breathed in sharply, stifling his shock at the casual assessment, and narrowed his gaze on the dragon’s lazy smile. “And what would a dragon know of politics and society?”

And for that matter, how did the dragon know so much about _him_?

The dragon’s smirk grew, “Come now, little princeling.  You may be a knight in all but name, but you’re a mage first, aren’t you?  Surely a mage of your age knows of the stories about my kind.”

He wasn’t wrong.  Alfred _was_ a mage first and a knight second.  And he knew exactly the stories the dragon was talking about, too.  The stories of untapped knowledge, of unsurpassable skill in shapeshifting magics...that it was no surprise to mages and witches alike, that dragons often utilized those skills for their own benefit, and assumed human form when it was convenient.

 _The town_ , he realized.  That’s why the townsfolk didn’t take to the knights - they knew the dragon lived amongst them.  Anyone who’d help a knight trying to take the Viridian Heart would only anger the dragon, and likely bring his wrath down on the whole village.

But that was a problem to be dealt with later. This assertion, that the council would have an issue - he couldn’t let this stand.

“You’re wrong about the council,” he snapped. “They’re allowing Michelle to marry her seafarer, it’s not like it would be a problem - ,”

“Please,” the dragon snorted, “forget the council. You think your _father’s_ going to let his youngest son marry a blacksmith?” the dragon laughed and Alfred felt something cold sink into his stomach. “The princess’s sea-faring lass is one thing.  She’s adopted, for starters.  She’s the youngest of your lot.  And she’s not in line for the throne.”  Golden eyes bored into him, “Now _you_ , on the other hand - you’re the heir apparent after your brother, until he has a child, that is.  Your father hasn’t even let you finish your knighthood.  You’re what - eighteen now?  You should’ve been finished two years ago.”

The truth lingered heavily in the air, weighing down on his shoulders like a lead-lined cloak.  Alfred swallowed down any protests he might’ve had as the dragon smiled, wider this time, and just as  _intent_ as any predator he’s ever seen.

“He might be a good ruler,” the dragon mused, “but as a father?  He’s one of the most overprotective monarchs I’ve ever seen - and I’ve been around since before the Queen Mother conquered most of this kingdom.  He didn’t let you out of the palace as a child, never let you explore beyond the palace walls in the city limits - never even took you on foreign trips.  You took that upon yourself, sneaking out right and left and giving all your father’s retainers a heart attack.”

Alfred didn’t bother citing security concerns and safety manifests, nor his father’s volcanic reaction each time he’d discovered his escapades.  Or the fact that Michelle - his younger, much beloved little sister - had been treated much the same.  Those excuses had stopped working in his heart a long time ago.

The dragon’s smile widened, “He doesn’t even know you’re here, does he?”

Alfred flinched.  No.  He didn’t.

“I can give you much more freedom than your old man, little princeling,” the dragon chuckled, leaning on his back legs atop the tower.  “I’d like you to stay here for most of the time - a kind of permanent residence, so to speak, to attract the idiots - but I’m not going to stop you from visiting other places.  Like, perhaps, your lover boy in the town over.”

Alfred’s jaw dropped and the dragon laughed.

“I’m not heartless, kid,” he chuckled, lazy golden eyes surveying the little prince, “and oddly enough, I’m already fond of you. You’re quite the entertainment, as is.”

Alfred _really_ wasn’t sure how to react to _that_.

“You can even call me whatever you wish,” the dragon added, as if trying to sweeten the deal.  Alfred’s mind was still overloading, but the immature little prankster inside of him cackled at the offer.

“Really?” he blurted, before his mind could decide whether or not this was a sane course of action, “ _Anything_?”

The dragon blinked, and Alfred had the oddest impression of him doing a nervous sweat-drop.  “...yes?”

“The wind spirits too?”

A cheerful breeze was his answer, and the dragon sighed as he side-eyed the tower.

“Okay then,” he said, before he could overthink it, “the wind twins will be Pip and Pip,” he received warm, cheerful breezes in response, “and _you_ will be Cheerio.”

Now it was the dragon’s turn to face fault. “What.”

Alfred shored up his determination and straightened, “You heard me.”

“ _Cheerio_?!”

“Uh huh.”

“ _Seriously?_ ”

“Yep.”

“I’m a centuries old _dragon,_ boy!” the dragon... _sqwaked_ in protest.  Alfred almost marveled at it.  The wind twins gusted around them cheerfully, almost giggling at the sound.

“You did say whatever,” Alfred pointed out.

“And now I’ll think twice about it in the future,” the dragon grumbled, almost _pouting_.

Pip Pip, and Cheerio, he thought with a giggle. Oh god, that was so _bad_ and his Dad was going to murder him well and good, but god was it worth it just to see the look on the dragon’s face.

Once he was sure he wasn’t about to get flash fried and barbecued, that is.

Ivan groaned again, from the base of the tower, bringing him back to reality, “Al’red?” he slurred.

“Ivan!” he blurted, and the feeling of relief was so strong his knees almost went weak.  The dragon watched him with a knowing gleam in golden eyes.

“I take it,” the beast rumbled, mouth curving into a smirk, “that we’ve got a deal, little princeling?”

Alfred narrowed his eyes at the familiar expression, that odd feeling of déjà vu rising once more before he shook it away, “On two conditions.”

If the dragon had eyebrows, they would’ve gone up at that proclamation.  “Oh? Name them, then, and lets see how generous I feel..”

“One,” he said, eyes sharp, “I will attend my sister’s wedding and bring the tiara to her.  I’ll stay for all the festivities, and return here once they’re done.” 

The dragon tilted his head, contemplating it, before he nodded sharply.  “On the condition that I will escort you there, in human form, of course.” the dragon added at the end, catching the way Alfred had begun to protest.  “And the second?”

“The second...you can’t kill any of my father’s knights unless they’re actually trying to kill you.”  Alfred stared square into golden eyes as they narrowed on him.

“Reciprocity, I see,” the dragon huffed, not as thrilled about the second condition, but it was understandable.  Particularly given that Alfred had been in training to be a knight before he’d slipped out for the quest.  “Fine, accepted.”

Alfred nodded, and then swallowed all the anxiety in his body, and said, “Then, we have a deal.”

The dragon grinned, launching himself from the tower roof, magic swirling around him blindingly as he came closer, until Alfred had to raise an arm to shield his eyes from the light.  And then the light died down, just as a thump echoed in from of him, and the hand he had in front of his face was snatched into an iron grip.

A _human_ grip.

He blinked through the light just as a _familiar_ chuckle came from the figure in front of him, and he gaped at the _golden-eyed, green-haired_ craftsman who tugged him closer with the iron grip on his hand.

“We’ve got a deal, kid,” the man - the _dragon_ \- said, and both their magics swirled around them and sunk into their skin, binding.

Alfred was still gaping, utterly gobsmacked, at the dragon-turned-man in front of him, who was watching him with a familiar smirk on a familiar face.  “Y-you,” he stuttered, “this whole _fucking time it was you????!!!_ ”

Well, that got real pitchy, real fast.

The dragon chuckled, flexing his human hand as soon as Alfred released it, “Humans never quite expect it, do they?” he asked the teenager rhetorically, “Not even mages, who remember that shapeshifting is in our power, ever suspect.”

“I ran into you on the _first day!_ ”

“Which was both amusing and surprising, let me tell you,” the dragon chuckled, “seeing the kid I’d nearly barbecued on the mountain pop up in my stall in town.  But I could tell you’d be an interesting one.  Entertaining, if nothing else.”

Alfred narrowed his eyes at the dig, “Keep laughing it up, _Cheerio_.”

The dragon winced at the name, “C’mon kid,” he almost _whined_ , “ _Cheerio_?!”

“You’re not making your case any better by laughing at me, you know.”

“I’m complimenting you,” he corrected, amused. “And besides, consider that I might’ve just flambéed you the next time I found you on the mountain if I hadn’t found you so interesting.”

“Duly noted,” Alfred muttered.

Ivan groaned again, stirring like he was going to wake, and finally Alfred snapped out of his shock and moved past the dragon - who just watched him go with perpetually amused golden eyes - and knelt down in the snow besides the other.  He cursed at the bleeding head wound, noting with a cursory scan of his magic, that the armor weave seemed to have protected Ivan from just about everything else. He’d only have bruises, but he’d be okay.  He whispered a spell, weaving it together around the sluggishly bleeding wound, and almost sagged when it closed up.

It was such a relief.  Ivan was going to be okay.

They were both going to be okay.

The relief was so much that he nearly sat down in the snow from the force of it.  Which is why, when something heavy was dropped on top of his head, he actually did topple down into the snow with an _ooof_.

He blinked up at the dragon’s amused face before he channeled it into a glare.

“What was that for?” he demanded, and the dragon chuckled.

“Part of our deal, little princeling,” he said, smirking, before that golden gaze rose to study something on his forehead, “and let me say, it suits you as well as it did your ancestress.”

His hand shot up to his forehead, fingers curling around the mythril band he knew had to be there, with the elegantly carved emeralds and diamonds that stamped the tightly woven band.  The brushed along its length, until he pressed the pads of his fingers against the centerpiece of the circlet, the dipped, teardrop emerald outlined with mythril that lay in the middle of his forehead.

He almost couldn’t breathe.

“You earned it, kiddo,” was murmured from behind him, but all he could think of - as he tugged the band from his forehead - was the shimmer of the band, the gleam of the gemstones, and the weight of it in his hands.

He’d done it.  He’d actually _done it_.

He’d completed his quest.

Sure, there had been a lot of twists to it that he never would’ve imagined.  Sure, he’d ended up sacrificing something his father would probably through a fit over. Sure, he was abandoning his royal duties for his own personal satisfaction and freedom.

But he’d done it.  Against everyone who’d told him it was impossible.

His sister would wear their ancestress’s crown on her head the day she walked down the aisle to get married.  And he had made it possible for her.

“Alfred?” Ivan’s groggy voice said, and he glanced down, relieved as Ivan’s violet eyes opened, blinking blearily, searching for him before fastening tightly on his seated figure.

“Here,” he said, needlessly, as Ivan’s eyes cleared and sharpened, and he almost jumped up when Ivan nearly bolted to his feet, before swaying.  He winced, not completely healed then.  He got to his feet as Ivan steadied himself against the tower.

Ivan was looking around, baffled, “What happened to the dragon?”

The gold-eyed dragon standing behind him snorted.

“I don’t think the dragon’s going to be the problem, at this point,” Alfred drawled, looking pointedly at said dragon, mouthing _Cheerio_ , who snickered but held his hands up and waved him off.

Ivan blinked, confused, before his eyes caught sight of the gleaming band in Alfred’s hands and he stared.  “Is that - is that the _Viridian Heart?!_   What the hell happened while I was out?”

Alfred looked down at the circlet, up at the snickering dragon, back to his lover, and sighed.  “Well,” he said dryly, “ _that’s_ an interesting story.”

A story about a bored dragon, a wayward prince, a blacksmith, and a missing, priceless circlet.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, this has inspired a whole series of ideas, so please don't be surprised if this is the start of a brand new series.
> 
> Also, many many thanks to Usagi323 who worked with me on the ideas behind some of the romance scenes, and @rusame-secret-santa-2018, who was the go between for me and @wandschrankheld. Thank you friends!!!!


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